Moving Day
by exiled mind
Summary: Moving isn't really much fun. Having moved, however, is pretty nice when it earns you a post-move nap.  Academy-era Kirk/McCoy ficlet.


Moving Day

Well, it had taken them an entire afternoon, a stubbed toe (Bones), a bump to the head (Jim) that had Bones' fingers twitching as though desperately wanting his tricorder at hand, and two smashed fingers (one for each of them), but they had finished moving all of their crap across campus to their new dorm with no loss of life and a only a moderate amount of cursing (mostly Bones).

It was definitely worth it, though, Jim mused, considering the not-insignificant step-up in square footage they'd gotten with the move to the other side of campus. Though their new building was among the oldest of the Starfleet Academy provided housing options, it was also the most spacious and had far more character than the shiny and sterile newer buildings that were the more popular choice and where they'd been assigned, separately, for their first year. And yeah, the steeply sloped ceilings limited them to stooping over when standing on the very edges of the room, but this limitation was made up for with the size of the room itself.

The view from their windows – and yes, there were more than one! - looked out over the water instead of the Academy science lab renovations and there was a distinct lack of obnoxiously loud construction noise constantly in the background. They were surrounded by a fairly quiet but relaxed crowd of older students, which was proving to be a welcome relief from overly perky and overachieving kids fresh from prep schools that had surrounded Jim his first year and making him feel even more out of place than he'd already been. Perkiness had it's place, Jim could admit with a grin, but being invited to four study groups and two fundraisers before he'd even found the bathroom? That had been a bit much.

In exchange for the much improved atmosphere, Jim didn't mind a few extra minutes walk to classes or occasionally temperamental water pressure, and Bones would... Well, Bones would come around. Eventually.

For now he lay supine on Jim's couch - a treasure saved from the trash heap last spring – with an arm flung across his eyes to block out the one light they'd hooked up so far. His shirt was slightly rucked up from his graceless and dramatic fall onto the only piece of furniture not covered in clothing or boxes after Jim had pronounced them, finally, done with the bulk of the moving. There was still plenty of organizing to do, what with the boxes and bags and books that littered the space around them, but at least they wouldn't have to drag any more furniture across the quad and up the stairs thanks to the malfunctioning lift.

It was the flash of skin that Bones' position revealed that caught Jim's attention from the biggest of his boxes of real paper books more than Bones' sigh of relief or grumbling about sore muscles and an imminent need for back surgery. Jim studied him for a moment before deciding that in an epic battle between Bones and cleaning, Bones would win every time. Or at least Bones when he was like this: casually dressed and slightly sweaty, with windblown hair and a quick grin when he thought Jim wasn't paying attention to the fact that his grouchiness was all for show. Well... Jim winced as he remembered the stubbed toe. Mostly for show.

So he stood at the foot of the couch, considered the best approach, and, deciding to go for directness, simply let himself collapse next to, or perhaps mostly on top of depending on one's perspective, Bones.

Bones let out a grunt of surprise when Jim landed on him but, for once, didn't complained about Jim's habit of using him as furniture. He simply flung an arm around Jim's back and gathered him closer, burying his head against Jim's neck. Jim's hands, quite naturally, wrapped around and up Bones' sides, lifting his shirt further, his hands revealing even more warm and tempting flesh. Bones brought his free arm up and gripped Jim's neck, leaning up for a quick kiss before he settled back against the side of the wide and sinfully comfortable couch, drawing Jim's head against his shoulder as he went.

Neither spoke, and after a moment, Jim wrapped his arms more securely around Bones and settled in for a much-deserved nap, with Bones as his favorite mattress.


End file.
